


Until Death Do Us Part

by Lothlorienx



Category: Original Work
Genre: Body Horror, F/M, Horror, Mythology - Freeform, Original Fiction, POV First Person, Vampires, myth, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-07
Updated: 2016-02-07
Packaged: 2018-05-18 17:41:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5937148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lothlorienx/pseuds/Lothlorienx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An old vampire story I wrote long ago. Set in 1800s England.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Until Death Do Us Part

I had come a long way to meet my new bride and I did not know what to expect. Upon seeing the house in which she dwelt, and later upon seeing her, I was not disappointed.

I got out of my car, walked up to my bride's door, and rang the bell. No answer came. Well, I thought, I am early. We were supposed to meet tonight at six, just after the sun went down. I rang the doorbell once more to make sure that she was truly aware of my presence, should she be home. Again no answer. Walking back to my car, I decided to kill the time by exploring the city.

London was certainly a crowded city, busy with automobiles and buggies hogging the streets and thrice as many people on the sidewalks, either rushing along or taking their own sweet time. With the noise of people talking and the cars rumbling along it was near impossible to hear one's self think. Not that I did a particular amount of thinking that day. No, my thoughts were careless and worry free, wandering here and there with no destination or even a journey to begin on.

I was quite carried away with the sight seeing; so carried away that the time completely escaped me. By the time I looked down at my watch the sun had already gone down. Six twenty-six, I read. I panicked a little and rushed back to my bride's apartment, hoping she would not be upset.

Before I even rang the doorbell, the door flew open and there stood my bride, looking at me with patient eyes. Never in my life had I seen such beauty. Pitch black hair burst from her scalp and fell down her back in loose waves, framing a face that seemed to be made of porcelain. All of her skin was flawless and pale. Her lips were the same colour as her pale skin; no pinkish hue could be detected by my eyes. A sign of a true gentlewoman. She had grey eyes that seemed to burn with a fire raging inside, hot and strong, giving life and animation to her entire frame. Promises of wicked desire filled those grey eyes.

"I am Amelia," she said. Her voice was harsh yet seemed to carry a melody in it, bizarre as it seemed. "Are you the man I am to wed?" For a moment I could not speak; her beauty was so bewitching. Then, as if I had finally noticed she had said something, I replied with a yes. "Won't you come in?" she asked of me. "Feel free to bring your luggage in."

I left my bags in my car; I was so enticed with her. She handed me a small key and said, "To your room." She pointed down the hallway. "Second room on the left. I sleep upstairs. If you need anything...get it yourself."

I was a bit astounded by what she said, but I was not badly caught off guard. I quickly recovered from her unexpected frankness. "Thank you," said I, "I will help myself." At this Amelia smiled, then turned around and went upstairs to, no doubt, her room.

I did not go to bed right away; instead I went back out to my car and brought in my luggage. I put all my suitcases in a pile in the corner of the room, figuring I would unpack and sort them tomorrow. I did, however, open the suitcase on the very top and got out my night clothes, along with my faithful journal with the ballpoint pen stuck inside. After I had prepared for bed I sat down at the little desk and began to write down my travels.

* * *

April 6th

18--

London

It was precisely one o' clock when I arrived at my bride's house. It was nearly six thirty when we finally met. How funny time is! You begin by being early and end up being late.

When I first laid eyes on my bride, the first thing that struck me was her beauty. Such a soft, radiant beauty that contrasts her voice and personality. Quite ironic, I would say, for a harsh soul to be encased within such a tender young lady.

She gave me a guest bedroom that looks as though it had not seen a guest in years, perhaps even decades. Everything is coated in a thick layer of dust sure to make anyone sneeze, and the room is almost completely bare. There are no pictures or writing pens or flowers, not even oil lamps or rugs! The bed has a thin white sheet that is somehow supposed to keep me warm during these cold nights.

Oh!, I should stop now before my complaining gets too bad. All in all it is a very nice house, aside from the guest quarters. When I first walked in I saw a fireplace with a large stack of firewood piled neatly nearby and lavish furnishings adorned the decent sized room. Two huge bookcases filled to the brim with books stood on either side of the fireplace (which is a good sign; I'd hate to think my fiancé isn't well-read). Unlike my room, there were oil lamps and rugs and photographs abound. I assume the pictures are of her family.

Tomorrow I shall ask her about them and their history. It'll be nice to know about my soon-to-be wife's heritage. Especially for the curious historian inside me.

But for tonight I shall rest...and try to stay warm while doing so.

* * *

With that I closed my journal and crawled under the thin sheet. Exhausted from my long journey, I fell into a deep sleep almost instantly, despite the bitter cold.

I woke the next morning shivering but in good spirits. I thought to myself, Today is the first day of the rest of my life! Instead of waiting to get dressed, I rushed right into the parlour where a roaring fire greeted me. Amelia sat on the couch, sipping a hot cup of tea with steam still rising out of it, enjoying the surrounding heat.

When she saw me she smiled and said, "Come, sit." She was pointing to the opposite end of the couch. I gladly walked over and sat down. The fire slowly but surely thawed my frozen skin. "Did you have a nice night?" she asked me.

"To be honest, no," I replied, initiating the same frankness she had used with me. "There is a thick layer of dust on everything that makes me sneeze and my eyes water, the sheet on the bed is too thin to keep even the most adapted and warm-blooded from chilling. There are no lamps or candles to help me see (only a box of matches that I brought with me), and there are no drapes to grant me privacy."

"Well it has been a long time since I had guests," she curtly said, "but before tonight all that shall be fixed."

"Thank you," I said, putting as much gratitude into my voice that I could muster. I looked around the room and my eyes landed on a large painting hanging over the fireplace. It was of a woman that looked strikingly similar to Amelia. So similar I figured it must be her mother.

"My grandmother, actually," said Amelia. I was startled and I wanted to ask her how she knew what I was thinking. I tried forming words but nothing came out. "The look on your face says it all."

She turned her attention back to the picture. "My Grandmother Amelia, whom I was named after. She was born in seventeen-fifty in the Italian countryside. She and her family lived on a vineyard. They made the most incredible wine for all of Italy. They were never rich but they made plenty of money to buy their bread and then some. When Grandmother Amelia turned nineteen she married a wealthy business man whose name is forgotten..." There was a bitterness in her voice as she said so. She looked down a the ground scornfully, then continued her story.

"This business man had a great deal of wealth, which is why I believe my grandmother married him. Needless to say that they both were high in society on account of her husband's wealth alone. But she loved him very much. Their marriage was not a shallow one. During the course of her life she bore him two daughters. The first was named Eliza and looked like her father, the second was named Julia and looked like her mother. Both were beautiful girls who got nearly everything they ever wanted. Everyone in the land, especially the girls, knew how much they were loved by their parents and even loved by the townspeople.

"But tragedy soon struck. On Eliza's fourteenth birthday she fell ill. The doctors thought nothing of it. Only that it was a minor fever or cold, nothing serious, and that within a few weeks the illness would be completely gone and Eliza would be back to her old self. This didn't happen. Eliza grew gravely ill and she was bedridden for weeks. She was dying. Julia knew this, Eliza knew this, Amelia and her husband knew this, and eventually the doctors knew it too. Eliza was dying and no matter what anyone did her health still declined.

"One night she called her beloved sister Julia to her bedside and spoke with her. What they spoke of is unknown but it must have been a deep and heart breaking conversation for Julia left Eliza's room in tears. The next morning, Eliza was found dead in her bed. The doctors concluded that she died peacefully during the night, but Julia knew that she had been in pain. A week later she was buried. The entire town was there, for Eliza was well loved by everyone.

"After Eliza's death, nothing was ever the same again. People didn't smile or laugh like they use to, people hardly even talked anymore, and when they did the conversation didn't last two minutes. Seemed like the entire town was in a never ending state of depression. It seemed like a gloomy veil cloaked the town, like storm clouds were always in the sky even on the sunniest of days.

"Julia mourned the loss of her sister more than anyone, but she could not live in a town as low spirited as that one. She eventually left Italy and moved to England looking for a new start.

"Julia had lived her entire life wealthy, and when she moved from Italy to England she left her fortune behind her as well. She was now poor and she didn't like that very well. She earned her bread by working in a bakery, a job which was seized solely because of her Italian roots.

"Once every week Julia put on her finest clothes and walked all the way to London. She was husband hunting. She attracted the wealthy men to her and eventually wed one, her endeavours having paid off. Andrew was his name, my father. Julia had married for money and Andrew knew she had married for money, but Andrew wasn't looking for a soul mate; he was just looking for a wife. So they gladly wed each other and moved into this house, which was a wedding gift from my father to my mother.

"Within a year I was born. Everyone thought that a good sign about their marriage, but when I was five my father killed my mother and told everyone that her death was an accident. The authorities suspected otherwise and ten years later he was hung in the gallows. Due to my father's will I got my inheritance; so far I have been able to make ends meet, but lately the money has been running a bit short and, here I am, marrying for money like my mother and my grandmother before me."

I thought this was the end of her story but I was wrong.

"There have been a couple more grooms that have come in order to wed me, but they were all looking for a soul mate and they were disappointed when they discovered I wasn't." Amelia laughed. "If I was looking for a soul mate I wouldn't be a mail-order bride." I laughed with her.

After all it is amusing what some people think they can buy. A bride, yes; a soul mate, no. I knew this very well, not out of experience but out of plain common sense. "Yes, it does seem that common sense is not so common any more," she commented. My laughter faded.

______________________________________

Later that same day, Amelia and I were discussing when the wedding should take place. "As soon as possible," she had said. We both decided that the wedding would take place in exactly one week. There would be no one to give her away and the guests would consist of whoever happened to show up. It would not be a glamourous wedding but at least it would be as traditional as possible. "So it's settled," said I, "in exactly one week you shall take my name." She nodded and gave me a feint smile.

We sat there together for a couple of minutes in complete silence. The sound to finally break the stillness was the grandfather clock striking ten o' clock. "I'd better be off to bed," she said and got up to go upstairs. But before she went up, she turned around, walked back over to where I sat, and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "Till death do us part," she whispered in my ear, and before I had time to process what she had said, she had gone upstairs.

Tonight when I walked into my bedroom everything had been taken care of just as Amelia had promised. The layers of dust had been cleaned away, the bed had been made with a thick quilt, oil lamps and candles sat on the desk, dresser, and nightstand, drapes had been hung at the window, and a picture even hung above the bed. It was someone I didn't know but I was pleased regardless.

Sitting down at the desk I again opened my journal and began to write.

* * *

April 7th

18-

London

My beautiful Amelia and I have chosen April 14th as our wedding day. I can barely contain my excitement. Even though our marriage is about money I cannot but help to have feelings towards her. She is a very lovely girl despite her somewhat unruly behaviour. But behaviour and personality are two separate things (at least in my eyes), and I do believe that she would make me a lovely and charming wife. I'm sure my friends back home would like her, despite how shameful they said it was to marry a mail-order bride.

Perhaps one day I shall take Amelia to visit them, or maybe even invite my friends here to celebrate our nuptials...or maybe not.

My room is much better tonight; Amelia has taken care of all my complaints. A picture even hangs on the wall over my bed, though I asked for none. I do not recognize the woman in the picture (she looks nothing like Amelia) but it is doubtless another one of her relatives, most likely an ancestor, for I have not heard her say she has any family alive today. Though I'm sure she does. It is unlikely for her to be the last of a long bloodline. And I, an educated historian, know a thing or two about bloodlines, and that is: The farther back you go in time, the more sorted your family tree is. For all we know her relatives could be anywhere from Asian to African or both.

I once tracked an Irish lady's ancestors back to Western China. But enough on that subject.

It is late and I wish to wake early tomorrow.

* * *

At this I closed my journal and crawled into bed, falling asleep because of comfort instead of exhaustion.

My dreams were vivid but not good. A woman appeared before me, horrid was she. Hideous and evil and venomous. She was speaking in a strange manner in an ancient and forgotten language I could not decipher. I knew the sounds she made, for one thing reached my ears undistorted. "Till death do us part." She came close to me and kissed me, and this kiss lasted a while. It seemed to draw the life out of me, until I lay dead on the floor. I was horrified at the sight of my dead body. I felt that I screamed silently. She laughed bitterly for she did not care about me anymore, did not even notice I was there. Then she faded like mist while a numbing cold seemed to creep over me.

I awoke in a cold sweat, panting and terrified and nearly mad. I got out of bed and started pacing back and forth across the small room, such was my habit when I am scared or nervous.

But I soon felt myself grow tired and my vision grew hazy. Falling back on the bed with a loud thud (or what I thought was a loud thud; for my hearing was nearly gone too), I thought I saw a figure of a woman pass before me. I let out a moan I could not hear. The shadow passed before my eyes again, and I tried to call out to it, but my voice failed me. As sleep consumed me the shadow fell upon me, laughing wickedly.

I do not think I dreamed any more last night, but I knew I must have, for when I awoke in the morning I was covered with more cold sweat. I got out of bed and dressed quickly, eager to flee the scene of my nightmares. I wasn't going to tell Amelia about them because I was fairly certain that the dreams meant nothing, and that she didn't care one way or another. They were only dreams after all, even if they were frighteningly real and lifelike.

A piping hot breakfast was laid out on the dining table and Amelia was already seated, eating a buttered scone with some earl grey tea. "Help yourself," she said and gestured to the seat across from her. I sat down, poured myself some tea, and reached over for a scone. I ate slowly. "How was your night?" she asked me. Her voice sounded cold. She took another big sip of her tea but it would not warm her voice. "Interesting," I said, "very interesting..."

"Oh, do tell me about it!" She seemed sincere enough, but there was something in her voice and in her eyes that made me question her sincerity.

"Mice," I lied, "I thought I saw mice in the house."

"Mice? In this house? There shouldn't be any mice in this house! It was inspected just six months ago!" she exclaimed. Heaving a heavy sigh, she got up and said, "Don't worry. You shan't see another mouse (or rat) again for as long as you live." Chills ran down my spine at her words but I did not let is show. Only when she had left did I shudder.

* * *

April 8th

18-

London

Today was an odd one. I lied to Amelia about my dream and told her mice were in the house. Her response was a curious one and shocked me somewhat; I don't think I've gotten over it yet. After breakfast I went to the church to schedule our wedding. I asked Amelia to join me but she strongly declined and soon said she was ill. I left without her.

I spoke with the preacher who said he would wed us. When I told him it was Amelia Elliano whom I was wedding, the priest had a fit and would not speak for nearly an hour. He was hysteric but I waited patiently for his madness to end. When it did (finally), he told me that I would have to find a new preacher to marry us. I tried to protest but could not get one word out before he told me to get out and his hysterics began anew. I left the church and the preacher to his madness and went in search of another church where we could be wed.

I must of looked lost because people in the street stopped to ask me if I needed help. I told them that I needed to find a good place for my bride and I to be married and many suggested the church that I had just left. It was an enormous church that seated over a thousand people, making it the only one around for miles.

I didn't want to walk all day to find a church, so I made the decision to walk to city hall. I asked for papers to file for marriage and have it legalized. They gladly consented and I now have the files with me laying beside this journal on the desk.

When I came back to the house I showed the papers to Amelia, who was by now in bed. I called her down to see them, not wanting to enter her bedroom. She took out a pen and signed the papers eagerly, without taking a moment to read them. I signed next to her signatures. When I was finished, Amelia took my hands into hers and began to say wedding vows: "In sickness and in health, for richer or poor, for better or worse, until death do us part, I will be your lawfully wedded wife. I shall stand by you until one of us is put in the grave."

Tomorrow I shall go and have the papers stamped and we shall be husband and wife.

* * *

Tonight was a terrible night for me. I think I see Amelia standing in my room, and I do not know whether it is a dream or hallucination. Such was the rest of the night. Amelia looked like she floated towards me through a thick cloud of mist. My senses are dull and I do not know anything anymore. She bent down towards me and planted a kiss on my lips, my cheeks and my throat. With each kiss I seemed to feel weak and weaker, and my senses dull and duller. But Amelia, it seemed to my numb ears and eyes, grew strong and stronger with each long and painful kiss.

As the morning approached, the dreams and hallucinations stopped, but the weakness didn't go away. I feel as if I can't move, I feel as if breathing takes all my effort; I can hardly open my eyes. Just mere thoughts alone are a strain.

The blackness inside my closed eyes suddenly flooded red. I started. Amelia had walked in and opened up the curtains, exposing my weak self to the bright sun outside. I moaned softly and turned my head away, trying to regain the blackness I had had only a moment before. Not the sun! Anything but the sun!

"Darling Henry," she said in a cheery voice, "I have exciting news: I got up early and ran right out to city hall to have our marriage papers filed and stamped. We are now legally married!" Come closer. Come closer; I cannot hear you. "Mr. and Mrs. Sheridan," she mused. I cannot hear. I moaned again, louder this time so that Amelia finally noticed my weak state. She did not seem startled or concerned like I thought she would be.

"Dear Henry." I heard her footsteps grow louder and felt the mattress sink in as she sat down on the edge of the bed. Her ice cold hand sent shivers from my cheek to all the rest of my body, and her voice rang in my ears, echoed through my head.

"You're ghastly pale and you're very weak — would you like a doctor?"

"Yes...yes..."

"Oh! I hope I didn't give you what I had yesterday."

I shook my head. "Doc-tor," I said in a coarse and broken whisper. Doctor.

I heard her no more. She was gone from the room. A doctor. She will find me a doctor. All will be better. Thoughts were my only company now, murky thoughts. I slept and I woke and I slept and I woke.

"Your prescription." Amelia was back, her voice as clear as day. I opened my eyes and saw her form in front of me. Her body moved forward and I felt her lips on my neck. Another painful kiss. Am I awake? Amelia drew back and I saw her once pale lips now a bright ruby red and set in a smile. Pearly white teeth were revealed. On her stained lips rested two long and sharp fangs where her canines should have been.

"Let's see if these pills can save you!" Wicked laughter consumed the room and stayed with me, even after she had walked out the door and slammed it behind her.

I now know! I know. Look what I have married! The priest's madness shall now become my own. My dreams and hallucinations were true, and I am doomed. My fate is sealed. I shall be ill and die here in the clutches of the creature wife. I shall die. I don't want to die! God! God, save me! Save me! Save me, please! Oh, Almighty God in Heaven, save me, please! I beg of you, please, hear my cries. Rescue me from my torture.

I wept and sobbed. I called out to God Almighty, His Son, the Blessed Virgin, and all the Saints relentlessly, but I already knew my fate; I knew they wouldn't answer and that I was to die in this hellish household.

________________________________________

Amelia now did as she pleased with me, keeping me trapped inside. I knew, deep within me, that no one would rescue me. No one would know what had happened to me. My friends back home did not care enough to even look into the matter. They considered me a burden to them; rude and crude sometimes, though I tried to be friendly. My parents would send for the authorities, of course, but by the time they would come, I would probably be dead.

I spent many hours reflecting on my past life, my past friends, my past happiness. I thought of my mother and my father, rich and proud, and all my memories with them. I thought of my friends, noble like I, only tolerating me for my money and status. I thought of how jealous I was when they, pure and good hearted, took wives for themselves. How happy they seemed and how outcast I was due to my lack of marriage or courtship. I remember those secretly whispering behind my back, gossiping like old hens, and me passing by, pretending not to notice.

I remembered myself reading through the newspaper, looking for a wife. No longer to be lonely or scorned by my peers. No more charming women; only having to make a business deal with one. If only I had known what this would lead to; known what kind of God-forsaken creatures were out there. Creatures hiding in the darkness and masking themselves with charisma, lurking and preying upon the desperate and the weak. Unsuspecting victims falling into their evil clutches.

People like me.

Amelia feasted on my veins day and night, becoming more beautiful and more powerful with each drink. She no longer pretended to be a loving wife for she had my fortune signed over to her and my life in her claws. I was helpless as she crawled onto the bed and sucked my blood out with such vigour you'd think she was starved.

I knew I had to get out of here, but I didn't know how I possibly could. I was in the clutches of a vampire, and once caught there is no escape; all hope is lost. If it were not my weakness then it would be her keen eyes and dominating power that stood between me and safety.

There were times when I wanted to give up, abandon all hope, and watch my life die. Times when I thought, Just let her kill me. Times when dying in this bed sounded quite nice; there are worse ways to die, I figured, though I could never think of any.

__________________________

One night Amelia came into my room, looking more beautiful and wicked than ever. She wore a pure white dress with large sleeves that resembled a burial gown. What has she dressed up for? She set her tea down on the nightstand, sat down beside me, lifted my head up, and putting her lips to my throat, bit down into my flesh. She drew the blood out of my body, all the while flicking her tongue over my wound. It had happened so many times that I was used to this kind of treatment. I knew resistance was silly, so I nestled my head close to her breast. If I could not escape, why not enjoy her beauty?

Make me one of you, I thought. The idea dawned on me so suddenly.

"What? And rob my self of my food?" She laughed and dug her long, glassy nails into the back of my skull. "Never!" She took my arm and ripped open my wrist with her long nails, licking the blood like a child would lick candy. I was disgusted and horrified at the same time, but I could not look away. I was slightly intrigued watching her lap up the gushing blood. She poked her tongue deep inside my flesh and I let out a small yelp in pain. This was too much for my eyes to bear so I turned away from her, even though blood still flowed freely from my neck.

I'm not going to stay here and let this demon tear me apart like a wild dog.

Oh, yes, you will. You have been captured.

No. One way or another, I am getting out of here.

Try what you may, you will fail, you will die.

I must try. I have a chance. Die with a chance.

Death is inevitable. Everyone dies.

I promise, I will die trying.

_____________________________

Everything then went black. Dreams wild and terrifying tore through my mind, but when I regained consciousness they were easily forgotten. I knew that I feared whatever it was I dreamt about, but that was all I remember from my dreams: fear. But who was to say I dreamed at all? What if my dreams were real and I did not sleep at all anymore but blacked out instead? What if the lines between dream and reality were blurred along with the lines between life and death? What if they were already gone?

No! I am alive and I will make it out of here alive and I will remain alive for many years to come! I will fight!

I opened my eyes. Amelia was nowhere to be seen. Judging by the way the light slanted across the room, I guessed it to be about noon or after noon. I tried lifting my legs but this proved to great a challenge, so I then tried lifting my arms. This proved too difficult a task as well. Monster. I tried twitching my fingers and, remarkably, they obeyed. I was filled with joy and renewed hope. I kept twitching my fingers until my whole hand moved. To think: my body had remained dormant for so long! Bloodless, as well. I lifted my entire arm up a few inches and then dropped it back down. Already I felt fatigued by these small motions. I need more blood.

My vision went a deep red and I was temporarily blinded. That still did not stop me. I twitched the muscles in my face, trying to regain control of my body one little bit at a time, before Amelia got hungry. If she did I would have to begin anew, only with less blood than I have now. I must be quick, for I know that if I was not, blood would never flow through these vessels again. I wriggled my toes and moved my feet back and forth. Work, work!

The floor above me creaked. I lay still, paralysed by fear. I saw my life flash before my eyes and I pictured my death. Amelia is coming for me. It is all over now. I lay in wait for a long time, or what felt like a long time, but no one ever came. I went back to work, focusing my muscles to move and my blood to run. If only I could get out of here.

Slowly I moved my arm over to the nightstand and then back again. I attempted this again and again successfully. I moved my leg out of the bed and onto the floor. My body did not follow at first. I lay as still as a dead man. But my body did soon follow after my foot, and before I knew what was happening, my legs were carrying my wobbly frame towards the door.

I put my ear to the thick wood and listened intently. When no sound came I opened it a touch and peered out. I saw no one. I opened the door wider, and when I still saw no one I walked out into the hall. I stood there for a minute trying to keep my balance. I thought I heard the sharpening of knives from far away. I nearly collapsed, but knowing the desperation of my situation, I made myself stronger and stepped cautiously onward, making sure the floor did not creak nor my feet stomp. I breathed as lightly as I could or I did not breathe at all. I only needed to get to the door, get outside where there will be people, witnesses, and I will be safe. Just get to the door.

But what if they're all on her side? What if they're all vampires too? What if I run out into the street just to be met by more enemies? Hundreds and hundreds of them. All hungry for my flesh, my blood, my organs. What if they drag me back to her? What will the punishment be? Torture? Torture.

I was frozen to the spot whence I stood, immune to all sound, immune to all reason. No. I could not go out there. Everyone was against me. They all wanted me dead. They all wanted to eat me.

"You!"

Amelia had come downstairs. Her voice was loud and horrid. Adrenaline shot through my body and I bolted to the door, reasoning that hundreds of hungry pedestrians outside was better than my vampire wife inside. Amelia blocked me, rushing to the door so fast that it appeared as if she vanished from one spot and materialized on another. A vampire's speed and strength. She caught and gripped me with inhuman strength and pulled me back away from my escape route and up the stairs.

Someone was screaming...I was screaming. I put all my effort into my cry, screaming as loud and as shrill as I could, hoping that someone would hear it and come and rescue me.

Amelia dragged my limp and shrieking body into her bedroom. I ached all the way to my bones. I was pulled up the stone spiral staircase and dropped onto a hard stone floor, the rug providing little to no cushion. I stopped screaming and lay silent now. She closed the door and locked it, three loud clicks filling the room. "No, " I think I said. She walked over to a large wooden table and picked up a long, newly sharpened knife. She ran her fingers over the edge, testing the blade's lethalness. I saw many knives laying on the table, and my blood ran cold at the sight.

"No."

She walked over to the window and closed the curtains so that the room was covered in darkness. That's when I saw it: a large antiqued coffin perched in the centre of the room, the cross symbol that once adorned it having been ripped off and broken and thrown into the thick dust piles. Pushed up against the wall lay the bones of fifty, perhaps more, giving the room a crypt-like appearance. With each skeleton I saw my fear increased and any hope that may have been left was erased.

"They were all my husbands," she said coldly. "Rich, desperate for a wife, yet bitter. From all over the world they came, all throughout the centuries. Of course I am careful to cover my tracks. No one has caught me and no one came looking for them." She turned to face me. "Just as no one will come looking for you."

"No."

The knife smacked up against the wall and a loud scraping sound filled the room as it ran down the stones. I clawed at my ears, trying to make it stop. Then she glided towards me, her eyes burning, her knife in her hand, positioned to kill.

"No."

She stood over me, her violet eyes filled with malice. The knife was raised high in the air, pointed towards my heart. A deadly smile played across her red, blood-stained lips and her devious laughter escaped into the dark, closed room. So joyful at my agony was she. She kneeled, then quick as a flash of lightning, she brought the knife down.


End file.
